He and She
by Amethyst2
Summary: Voldemort has captured legions of prisoners. While they're waiting for either the worst to come, or rescue, two people share a little angsty moment. PG for major angst.


  
He would have begun the story by saying what the most horrible part of the dungeon was, except that there was no most horrible part. Everything about the tiny cell was abhorrent to his five senses: He could see almost nothing for lack of light; he could hear only his own breathing, the drip, drip, drip of water running off the stones and pooling on the floor, and the frequent screams of pain from somewhere in the floors above him; he could only feel against his hands the freezing cold handcuffs not at all warmed by his body head; the air smelled of death and dampness; the dungeon even tasted bad. Not that he was licking the floors and walls, but it left a horrible taste in his mouth, especially when he thought about the one who had put him there.  
  
He tried to adjust his position in the chains, but to no avail. Nothing could be done to make this cell more comfortable. Earlier, he had tried talking out loud to himself just to drown out the screams, but someone had rapped on his door and threatened him with the Cruciatus if he wasn't quiet. A little relief from the noise wasn't worth the pain.  
  
But suddenly, there was relief from the noise. Footsteps were treading the cold, slippery floor. Two pairs of heavy boots, and a pair of squeaky tennis shoes. He tried to turn his head as they passed by, and was blinded by the bright glow of their torch. After the colored spots disappeared, he saw that one of the ones with boots was wearing the dark black hood of a Death Eater. He suspected that the other pair of boots was also one of those odorous types, but he couldn't see the owner of Squeaky Shoes.   
  
There was a clang as the cell next to him was opened, and a grunt as someone was shoved into it. He raised his eyebrows; would he have a neighbor then?  
  
The two Boots walked away, but he knew that there were at least five other guards lining this hall of the dungeon. He heard Squeaky Shoes get up next to him- at least whoever it was wasn't chained to the wall!- and start to pace. Sqeauk, squeak, squeak, reeeep as they turned in their tracks, squeak, squeak, squeak.  
  
Dare he try and talk to his neighbor? No, not with the guards around. But he was willing to risk even Cruciatus to talk to another sane, normal human being for a moment.   
  
He was just opening his mouth to speak when he got incredibly lucky. Well, as lucky as he could get, being a prisoner of the most wretched evil in the world.  
  
There were boots on the stairs, an awfully long stride, and then a voice, deep and cold. "You five, come on .The Dark Lord wants to speak with us."  
  
He grinned as the six Boots evacuated the hall, and pounded up the stairs. For a moment there was just silence and darkness.  
  
"H-hey" He finally said, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "You, Squeaky!"  
  
There was a moment of silence, then a feminine gasp of disbelief. "Is someone else down here?" Then, a near sob. "I thought I was all alone!" She started to cry.  
  
"No, we're here together, don't worry."  
  
She finally stopped crying, for which he was thankful, because he had heard much too much crying over the past few days. "Who are you?"  
  
He bit his lip as he thought about that question. "No, we better not. Say who we are, I mean. They might ask us later, when they interrogate us again."  
  
"Right," the voice replied promptly, "I wouldn't want to put anyone else in danger."  
  
"So," he said after a while, "have you seen Him yet?" From his inflection, she knew he meant the Dark Lord.  
  
"Y-es," she replied softly and hesitantly. "He's… awfully scary."  
  
"I was alive back when he was still in power," he said.   
  
"Oh, how old are you?"  
  
He laughed hollowly. "I'm pretty sure I'm nineteen, but it doesn't seem to matter much down here." He shook his head, though she couldn't see. "I'm not even sure whether it's day or night."  
  
"It's about one o'clock in the morning," she informed him, cheerful to provide a bit of information. "And it's Tuesday…, in July…." She started to cry again, but silent tears this time. It was his birthday, after all.   
  
He didn't seem to realize the importance of it being his birthday, but then again, he probably didn't know. "Well, um, that means it's been four days."   
  
"You were captured four days ago?"  
  
"I'm at the Ministry… Mmm, maybe I shouldn't have said that. Oh well, it doesn't matter anymore, probably. I'm at the Ministry, and they questioned me, you know, who am I, where do I work, all that kind of stuff, and then they stuck me down here."  
  
"Have you had anything to eat?"  
  
"Yeah," he lied, "it's not that bad down here."  
  
"Oh." She seemed to be relieved. "I'm sorry you've been down here so long."  
  
"It's not that bad, really." He took a deep breath to clear his mind and his throat, as he had come close to bursting into tears himself. Human contact just could not be replaced with mental conversations. "My brother would be having a great time down here. He loves tunnels and such." Then, he grimaced, though she couldn't see that either. "Then again, the chains might daunt him a little."  
  
"Oh, are you chained up?"  
  
He flapped his elbows in response, which made the chains jingle loudly.   
  
"Oh-" She seemed at a loss for words. "You have it much worse than I do, then."  
  
He was very inclined to agree with her, but decided that it would be better to try and boost her morale as much as possible. "It could be much worse, believe me. My brother has gotten his entire arm nearly bitten off by a poisonous dragon, then dropped into the ocean by same dragon." He gave another hollow laugh. Why were his laughs so empty? Was it because of the emptiness he felt in his stomach, not to mention the ones in his heart and soul?   
  
"Was that the same brother who likes tunnels?" she inquired politely.  
  
"No, I have several brothers." Had they been captured too? Were they being forced to go through this tribulation as well? He formed his hands into fists and, despite all his resistance, started to cry.   
  
She heard him break down, and wished she could apparate through the cold, slimy stone walls separating them and hug him, hold him, comfort him no matter who he was. There had been several times in her life when she had wished to do that for a friend. However, all of her best friends had been guys, and girls just don't run up and hug a guy because he's feeling down. She had always missed that warmth of being able to hold someone who was hurting. Now she ached for it more than ever.  
  
"I have a very good friend who has lots of brothers," she said. "Only one sister, though. He's the youngest boy, and he tries to act tough all the time. But he's really soft around his sister."   
  
He stopped crying for a moment to think about that. "Why don't you tell me about your friend?" He tried to lean over to wipe his eyes on the front of his shirt, but he couldn't reach. He felt very ashamed for crying, especially in front of someone else. He had always hoped that he, at least, would be able to stand through adversity like this without breaking down. Nothing very terrible had even happened to him yet! He lost himself in her soft voice, which sounded strangely familiar the more he listened to it.  
  
"My friend is a real blockhead sometimes. He doesn't understand the importance of studying! But he's actually very nice. He's got, um…" She counted on her fingers. "Five older brothers." His ears perked up. "Just above him are these twins, and they love teasing everybody. And above them is this really nice guy named Percy."  
  
He jerked upright in his chains. She heard the sound, and asked him if anything was wrong. He shook his head, tears running unashamedly down his face now, and said that nothing was wrong, keep talking.  
  
"Percy's a prefect at Hogwarts, and he's really strict sometimes. But I can tell that he loves his brothers, and would do anything to protect them." She sighed. "I wonder where he is now. I wonder where they all are now."  
  
There were several moments of silence, for once not punctuated by a shriek of horror somewhere far off.   
  
"I wonder too, Hermione."  
  
She gasped. "Percy?"  
  
At that moment, boots came stomping down the stairs again. A voice barked at them, "Get up. The Dark Lord wants to see you."  
  
As the torchlight flared, he and she got to see each other. He looking haggard and worn, she looking terrified and thin, but both much stronger for the other's presence. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it as they were marched between two Death Eaters up the stairs. Tennis shoes squeaked at every step, boots clomped on the floor, and one pair of soft shoes tried their best to sound like a brave soldier's boots, as they firmly marched up the stairs. However, they squeaked like the tennis shoes when their owner turned to grin at his fell  
  
"Who knows? Maybe if Harry doesn't save us, Fred and George will blow up this place with Dungbombs."  
  
The guard punched him in the back, but he just turned and marched on with his head high. And so did she.   
  
  



End file.
